Spirit of Magnolia
by Rosabell
Summary: Mulan was a talented, yet eccentric second daughter of Hua Zhou. When she met the Daoist at the marketplace while buying silk for her mother's birthday, the Daoist predicted that she will do great things. However, when the Huns attacked and she went in her father's place, others also recognize her potential…and they all have different plans for her.
1. In the words of the Prophet

**Spirit of Magnolia**

_In the words of the Prophet_

The marketplace was usually a loud and noisy scene, and all sorts of people could be found there. It was supervised by a patrol of guards that looked out for any mischief, but for the most part everyone from noblemen to ragamuffins could be found there. Beggars knew to steer clear of the wealthy, of course, and often troubled the other poor, who sometimes knew enough of the hardships of survival to afford a little sympathy, whatever their own plight.

The Daoist was simply absorbing the scene as he mingled among the crowd, but he saw a young man step out through the doors of an inn and that, quite abruptly, changed whatever plans he might have had. Grinning, he glided smoothly between the mess of moving bodies to approach the man from behind.

It was always endearing when an honest soul becomes so absorbed in his work that he notices nothing else.

"Ahem."

The man looked up, not quite startled but rather alert. His face went from a blank mask to a matching grin.

"Bo_-xiong*!"_

"Yan-_di**!_" The Daoist laughed, and clasped his hands in front in a proper greeting as the man rose. "I knew you had left our hometown, my friend, but I did not expect you to make such an establishment here!"

"Bo-_xiong!_ You have no idea how pleased I am to see you! Come in, come in! Erti! Get that table over there and some tea! Bo-_xiong, aiya!_ It is so good to see you!"

The waiter prepared the table and served the tea, and the two sat down to talk; Bo laughed as his younger friend Yan remark on the years since they had seen each other—how long was he staying? Where was he going? How had he been all this time?

"I would tell you, but for the ears all around us," Bo assured Yan, "Little has happened in recent years, but from the energy in the air, that may change soon."

"I hope not!" Yan exclaimed, "I am not the kind of man who seeks excitement. Marrying my bride is excitement enough for me! Let me tell you, she is a darling—when I was younger, fool that I was, I had the nerve to be dissatisfied—she is a bit of a dark little thing, let me tell you, but you know what? Beauty _does _come from within, and hers is the type that grows on you. I would never have been able to establish this inn without her help. Half of the credit goes to her."

"Of course," Bo nodded.

"I use to think that Eldest Brother was so lucky," Yan went on, "He gets the family inheritance and can pick up our father's trade, and I had to figure out how to start from the beginning. Well, not _quite _the beginning, obviously, for those who wish to start an inn and were farmers all their lives, they do not have nearly the experience or connections that I had, even without my dear bride. Now, though," He chuckled, "Amazing the difference a woman makes."

"Amazing, indeed," Bo agreed. "A good bride brings a man great fortune. A bad one takes it away."

"Heaven knows!"

They conversed some more, sharing childhood stories and elaborating on what happened when Bo left to become an apprentice to a master Daoist. Yan asked for some demonstration of the famous powers such individuals were reputed to have, but Bo declined to do so in such a public setting. Perhaps some other time, when there are fewer people around. Heavenly arts were not meant for triviality, after all.

The tea ran out, and Yan waved his hand at the waiter to summon him. Erti, however, was staring out through the window.

"_Ai!_" Yan exclaimed, "What is that lad doing? Daydreaming? The other patrons are waiting as well! Lazy brat!"

"Now now," Bo laughed, "I have drunk enough liquids for the day. I intend to be on my way soon enough."

"That may be, but he should still be working, not staring off into space!"

But Erti was not staring into space. He was looking at a girl who was definitely younger than sixteen, for she wore her hair in multiple buns instead of the single knot of womanhood. The child had pretty features, though her skin was tan, as if she spent most of her days out in the sun rather than indoors. She was smiling at one of the outdoor vendors, the expression sweetening her face. As she turned, she looked in the direction of the Daoist, though she did not see him.

He, however, saw her very clearly, and did not miss the intense spirit in those orbs.

"Who is that there?" He asked, before the innkeeper could launch into reprimanding the waiter.

"Ah? Who now?" Yan followed the Daoist's gaze. "Ah, _her_. Funny you should mention her. Quite an odd lass, that. Daughter of War Hero Hua, Mulan is her name. She comes out to the market from time to time. Rumor has it, she fights as well as a man. Heaven knows what her father was thinking, training a woman like a soldier, but then she was said to be good at the loom and needle as well, so a maiden of many talents. I have no idea what man would want such a woman for a bride though. Competence is one thing, and no man worth his weight would shirk that, but what man can handle someone so…so…" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "But one thing is for sure, whoever she weds better watch himself. She would never suffer to be abused, that is certain."

"Hua Mulan," Bo murmured, stroking his beard, "Quite the flower hiding daggers. Is she the only such a maiden from the house of Hua?"

"If you mean of her peculiar idiosyncrasies, yes, she is probably the only such maiden in the whole of this great Empire. If you mean if she is the only offspring, nay, she has one sister elder and one brother younger. Her sister, they say, is quite a beauty by contrast—skin as fair as snow, modest and demure."

Bo was waving his hand in dismissal. "The tan is hardly important. Obviously, it is due to her particular lifestyle. I take it that her sister is not as enthusiastic about the arts of combat as she is?"

Yan chuckled, though rather bemused, "Why, Bo-_xiong_, you are taking quite an interest in the girl."

Bo did not deny this. "Is she not interesting? She stands out from among all the other maidens."

Hua Mulan did, in a subtle yet undeniable way. It was in her posture, the way she held her head, that energy that coiled within her beneath the surface of tranquility. Like the glow of a lantern, not quite bright, but warm and defiant against the night.

"I think I would like to talk to this Maiden of Many Talents," Bo declared.

* * *

"Hm, I am not sure," Mulan was saying, "The fabric is quite thin, and you charge the same price as for the one here. I would say, I would pay no more than half of that, if not less."

"For you, two-fifths, what say you?" The merchant offered, "Finest silk, as would not be afforded elsewhere!"

"For my mother, I will do it."

"Ah, a good daughter!" The merchant chuckled, "And there is my good deed for the day."

"Oh come, you have made a profit still." The merchant just laughed and did not answer.

She was rolling up the fabric and turning when she caught sight of the Daoist staring at her. People often did that, but usually Mulan knew why. This time, she was not so sure.

"Ah, Honored Sir," She greeted, when his gaze did not relent, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I just want to talk."

"…Oh."

Daoists were a strange lot. As far as Mulan knew, they knew the secrets to longevity, and had mystical powers over the environment and people's fates. They tended to be benevolent and generous, but also dangerous, and while she was not sure she wanted to indulge this stranger, offending one of their order was…not wise.

"My surname is Yi, given name Bo," Said the Daoist, raising his hands to present his greeting.

"Good day, Yi-_shu***_. My surname is Hua, given name Mulan."

"Pleasure to meet you, Flower Maiden," The Daoist smiled benignly enough, and Mulan found herself relaxing a little. "Shall we step somewhere a little less busy?"

They ended up going to the inn, where the innkeeper seemed familiar enough with the Daoist that he was actually more confused by Mulan. Yan was a gregarious host, and his bride was a stern but fair woman, without equal in the kitchens. Mulan's father, Hua Zhou, sometimes hired Yan's catering services during special occasions, such as her mother's birthday. This year, her mother did not want such fanfare for some reason. She had been brooding as of late, though she always remarked that she was fine when asked.

"What brings Yi-_shu_ into our humble town?" Mulan inquired.

"I am passing through. How familiar is the Flower Maiden with settlements elsewhere?"

"This maiden can only claim to have heard or read of them."

"Ah," The Daoist smiled, "Perhaps that will change one day."

Mulan blinked. Was that a hint?

"Silk for your mother? What do you intend to make, flower child?"

She blinked again. "Ah, Mother's old scarf is getting…well, old. She loves that scarf—she wore it since she was my age. I intend to embroider this one exactly like hers, so that she might discard her older one without pain."

"Your needlework is to be envied, I hear."

Mulan ducked her head bashfully. "I would not say that."

Something flashed toward her, and Mulan's reflexes kicked in before she could think better of it. She stared at the fan caught in her hand with shock.

"Good agility too," The Daoist chuckled, withdrawing the fan and stroking his beard.

_He must have heard about my combat training,_ Mulan realized with a little bit of chagrin.

"You will go to great places, child," The Daoist told her, "Such that songs will be written in your name."

* * *

Of the three children in the Hua family, young Rixi, often called by his petname Baobao, was undeniably the most precious in general. After some long years of trying, he was the only son and the only heir, and everyone doted on him, from their eldest, Yilan, to their second, Mulan, and the child was sweet and good-looking, with bright eyes like his mother, so everyone took this in stride. He was their little miracle, after all, and the one who would keep the family going.

For each parent individually, however, there were other favorites. Fa Li was closer to her eldest daughter, for Yilan was the epitome of everything the woman would want for her daughter. Fair, beautiful, mild-mannered and graceful, she was the most promising in terms of finding a good match, and Yilan was good to her mother in that responsible manner eldest siblings tended to possess. She was generous almost to a fault, and as a father, Hua Zhou often worried that she might be taken advantage of by her husband. No young brat, after all, would know how to treat his daughter as well as he would, and that was why he kept Yilan close even though she was eighteen and well past the start of her nubile years.

Mulan, however, was Hua Zhou's favorite, and remained so even after Baobao came to them and he no longer thought of her as a surrogate son. They say that the middle child is always the cleverest, and that seems to hold true for Mulan. She was seven years older than her brother and a good enough sister when Yilan was preoccupied, while simultaneously a mischievous rascal of a girl, just shy enough to refrain from pulling harmful pranks, but bold enough to be surprising. To give _Mulan _away would be painful indeed! Just the thought of it hurt, so Hua Zhou tended not to think about it. Mulan was but fifteen, not even a woman yet, and she had many more years with the Hua family before she would leave.

Fortunately, Mulan was not particular about leaving either. She had always been a peculiar child, bright and creative and charismatic, and yet not close to anyone except her own family. When the other girls began ostracizing her due to her odd interests, Mulan never seemed too despondent. Often when she was not at the loom or helping in the kitchen with her mother and sister, she would ride the black stallion, Kehan, and not come back until hours later. Several times, Hua Zhou secretly rode after her to ensure she was not up to some mischief, but all Mulan did was ride to a particular glade, where she would let her horse graze while climbing a tree and sitting in its branches. She often brought books, which she brought out with her to read. Why she could not read at home like any normal person was a mystery, but Hua Zhou had long decided not to question his daughter's ways, so long as she was not doing any real harm to herself or others. As time went on, other people began eyeing his daughter with disapproval, finding her strange, wild, perhaps unbecoming. If young men approached Mulan, it was more to spectate than anything else, this odd creature that could plant their faces in the ground as easily as any man. Fa Li never really forgave him for introducing Mulan to the martial arts; she often claimed he ruined their daughter, but it kept Mulan close by his side, away from the lecherous paws of others, and even with all the inconveniences to come, Hua Zhou could never bring himself to regret helping the child fulfill the full potential of her strength.

And she was such a good elder sister to their precious son…perhaps if Mulan truly could not wed, Rixi could be troubled to look after her? Hua Zhou knew better than to expect this of his son; siblings usually get too irritated with each other for such an arrangement, but he thought of the scenario often enough. And perhaps, someone might come along after all, who would allow Mulan to be close to her parents, so that as long as Hua Zhou was alive, he could always protect her.

"I am home!"

Mulan's voice broke into his thoughts, and Hua Zhou turned his head as the front door shut. He heard the innocent voice of Baobao shouting for his sister as his running footsteps echoed on the wooden floors. He always ran to his second sister like he had not seen her in years.

"Look at what your sister got for you!" He heard Mulan croon, and Baobao's corresponding shriek of delight. The boy ran off, shouting for his mother, while Mulan's footsteps approached Hua Zhou's room.

She hurried in without knocking or so much as a "by your leave", sliding a package behind his bookshelf. It was improper, but Hua Zhou knew what she was up to.

"What did you get?" He asked.

"Silk. Her old one is getting, well, old. I thought I would make her another."

"How are you going to work on it without your mother noticing?"

"Bai Na said I could go over to her place to sew," His daughter smirked. "Father, how are you?"

"My children intrude into my rooms without permission, how do you think I am?"

"Ah, but you will forgive me, for it is for a good cause."

"Did you get something for yourself in the market?"

"Hm," Mulan paused, "There was nothing I was interested in. I did run into someone though."

"Oh?"

"He was a Daoist," His daughter tilted his head, "A man in his late thirties, I think, with a handsome beard. He wanted to talk to me specifically, for some reason, said something about my needlework…he knew I learned martial arts, Father. And then he said I will go to great places, and that songs will be written about me."

An uneasy feeling coiled within his stomach, but he disregarded it. "If you teach your brother to tidy up his room by himself, I will personally write a song in your name, called 'All hail the flower Magnolia, that can teach a boy the meaning of chores'."

Mulan had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from laughing too loudly. "Good day, Father," She remarked once she collected herself, and left the room still chuckling.

* * *

_*Xiong: _Elder Brother

**_Di: _younger brother

***_Shu: _Uncle


	2. A target for the Bees

**Spirit of Magnolia**

_A target for the Bees_

The first time Mulan was ever bullied was actually by a group of girls. They were twelve, and Mulan had gone to town to play with them in the courtyard near the fountain. She had not gone out for a while, since she had been working on a project on her loom, and was anxious to see her friends again.

_"Girls only," _They had said. _"You are not a real girl, so you cannot join us."_

The worst part was really that they said it with such confidence, like she really was not a girl just because she knew martial arts. At the time, Mulan did not know what to think. She had turned away from the group with tears stinging at her eyes and left the town with them streaming down her cheeks. She went home and her father had asked her what was wrong, but she refused to tell him. She slept weeping silently into her pillow.

Then the next morning she woke up, and decided that it did not really matter. The hurt had been more from the shock than anything else; she had not expected such an attack, but what did she care if she was not a girl? Being a woman was a stroke of misfortune. If she had been born a man, she would have been able to do great things. Instead, she was stuck simply being a woman.

The second time Mulan was bullied, however, was actually by a group of boys. They were eager to test their strength against hers and since she "was not a real girl", figured that the standard rules of genteel conduct did not apply. One of them was much stronger than the others, and Mulan was not as good at fighting as she later became. He started to hurt her, and got a thrill when he saw her cry. How proud he was, to be able to defeat the infamous warrior maiden when none of the other males could.

It was Bai Na who intervened, ultimately. A girl who shared Mulan's birthday down to the day, she was actually a quiet thing, hardly ever speaking or talking to anyone. Mulan had at first considered her shy, but actually she was just reclusive, and could boast some strong lungs, as she did that day. She hugged Mulan until her tears dried and then the two spent the next ten minutes trying to figure out who was the elder. Finally, Mulan suggested that they just call each other by name instead of calling either one the elder sister, and the two bought candied plums, and teased horses and sang songs for the rest of the day.

Since then, the two had been inseparable.

"The matchmaker saw Shiyan-_jie_* yesterday," Bai Na told Mulan as the girls sat to sew. Mulan was folding the seams and pinning them down, while Bai Na was already embroidering her handkerchief. "I hope she finds someone close by. Back when I was seven, Liyuan-_jie_ had to leave with her groom to the west, and to this day I have still never seen her; I think I will never see her again."

"Do you ever worry about us?" Mulan asked. Bai Na was more accepted in town than Mulan was, so she would probably be able to find a husband close by. Mulan, on the other hand…"Father never mentioned anything, but I do not think anyone here likes me, and I do not like any of them. I cannot tell if I would rather be close to home with a man I cannot stand and who cannot stand me, or far away in a land I do not know."

"At least no husband will dare to harm you."

"That is the hope." For all of Mulan's skill, a man's advantage in strength was not one to be overlooked.

"Perhaps the matchmaker might find a second son who will move here, like Yan," Bai Na suggested, "That way you both establish a new home wherever you want."

"He might wish to remain at home with his parents, though."

"Perhaps, but perhaps he might be kind also. It is easier for a man to travel than a woman."

How nice it must be, to be born a man. They could see the world, and have the strength to deal with all its dangers. In the story of mankind, women were part of the scenery, a prop to use to beautify a home or use to launch an idea. Heaven's attention focused on men, their decisions and actions, and women just…went with the flow. Sometimes Mulan considered just posing as a man. There were bachelors who never married; she could be one of them, and have great say in the courts of the Emperor, decide on battles and on policies, and when she died she would be buried as a man, and only Heaven and she would know what she really was.

But a woman had to live a woman's life, and Mulan was the second daughter, not the first, and there would always be things she could not do, things she should not do, and such was the way of life.

"Look at this," Bai Na raised her handkerchief, where a half-sewn flower was already blooming. Mulan looked, then giggled.

"I like how you stitched the petal's rim."

"It worked better than I expected," The other girl agreed.

"You must bear daughters once you have the son. Boys do not appreciate embroidery as much. You can doll up your daughters any way you want."

"If I can bear sons," Bai Na murmured, "Then by all means, I should like at least one daughter to dote on. If not, however, I can just dote on yours."

Mulan laughed. "I will welcome all the handkerchiefs you can make!"

"How long do you think you will need before you are finished with your scarf?" Bai Na inclined her head at the old one, which was quite faded and worn. It use to be resplendent, with two pheasants facing each other in the middle, and their tails streaming out to the edges.

"If I come here every day, I estimate I can finish just in time for Mother's birthday."

"I highly doubt you will finish in three weeks. Just look at all the detail."

"Is that a challenge?"

"You will wear your fingers to the _bone_, Mulan."

"I accept," Mulan chuckled, "Besides, I have already condemned myself to such a deadline. On we go."

* * *

Hua Zhou was a decorated soldier, and as such he had a property and an accumulated wealth. He had no real political standing, however, so he was a bit surprised to receive a letter from a noble. The name, at least, was familiar. Ma Diao was actually a soldier like him, but while Hua Zhou just wanted to return home after the war, Ma Diao accepted a government position. He had the mind for strategy, which Hua Zhou did not; Hua Zhou was always just a foot-soldier, good at swinging the sword and controlling his fear. Ma, on the other hand, was meant for greater things.

Said official was apparently traveling, and was due to arrive in town the next day. Would Hua Zhou like to take the time out to see an old friend?

_What else am I doing?_ Hua Zhou shook his head, penning a response. It was always good to see old comrades, so long as Ma was willing to put up with a commoner like _him_. Nobles were a little stingy about rank and superiority, even if they came from humble beginnings, as Ma did. Power and influence changed a person, and the people they were close to get pulled away as they adjust to new social circles and new expectations. Hua Zhou liked to think he was respectable enough to entertain a noble, but one never knew.

Of course, there was no way he could actually say _no_. That would be beyond improper.

The town magistrate was receiving Ma, and Hua Zhou would head over to the magistrate's grounds. There was a corresponding letter from the official, inviting Hua Zhou for the afternoon. The magistrate was a relatively young fellow in his late twenties. Hua Zhou had never seen his wife, who tended to keep to the interior of the grounds in order to run the household from behind the scenes. From all appearances, she did a good job, for the magistrate was doing a good job running the town and never seemed flustered by what was happening at home.

"Husband," Fa Li called out from down the hall, "Have you seen Mulan?"

Hua Zhou wiped his brush to prevent the ink from dripping over his missive. "She went over to her friend, Bai Na."

His wife sighed loudly. "That girl is never around when you need her."

Feeling a bit defensive, since Hua Zhou knew perfectly well _why _Mulan was away, he called out, "Do not speak nonsense. How is Mulan supposed to know she was meant to stay if you have never told her? You always use her sister instead. What is it that you need her for?"

"I cannot find my scarf. No one else has seen it. _You _would not happen to know, would you, Husband?"

Hua Zhou's darkening mood was spoiled by the fact that his lips wanted dearly to twitch up. "That old thing? Probably best that it is missing."

His wife was not pleased with that remark. "I wore it since I was—I was _her _age! And it has to be here somewhere, where else can it be? Mulan would not have taken it; it is not her style."

"It probably fell behind a desk somewhere. I will help you find it when I finish writing this letter. If we still do not find it, perhaps we can ask Mulan when she returns."

"What letter are you writing?" Fa Li asked, stepping into the room. She was a soothing sight, for all her faults, a little plump but beautiful enough to carry it off. Hua Zhou liked to squeeze her around the waist when he hugged her; it was nice hugging a soft wife.

"An old colleague is visiting the town, Commander Ma Diao. He and I fought in the war and he moved on to be promoted. We had not seen each other in years."

"Obviously, since I have never even heard of this man. He is a Commander? Is he coming here?"

"Not according to this letter. He is visiting the magistrate first. It might not be remiss to prepare just in case they decide to come here for the evening."

"We will get ready."

He reached out to squeeze her hand. "Give me a few minutes, I will be done soon enough."

* * *

_"Mulang! Mulang!_ The She-Wolf!"

Mulan had heard the nickname so many times that she barely registered the boys. The sun was setting, casting the town in a warm glow.

_"Wolf Maiden! What is your hurry? Where are you off to?"_

_"Wolves howl at night! I can make you howl!"_

_"We can make you howl! Come on!"_

Mulan was not entirely certain why everyone seemed to think that martial arts somehow made her _less _respectable. She had a suspicion it was because the men liked to control women, and Mulan's abilities threatened that control, so they were overcompensating. She ignored the youths who were actually starting to howl like wolves, thinking they were deriding her—_they have no idea how ridiculous they appear._ Instead of making _Mulan _howl, they were howling themselves, and this was funny enough that she started chuckling to herself as she took the path that would take her home.

_"Aiya come on Mulang! Where is your sense of fun?"_

_"Are you **scared**?"_

_"This is why women should not fight. All that skill, no courage behind it."_

Mulan had long since taught the boys a lesson. She had grown in skill over the years, whereas the boys only relied on their strength. It was still a close call, of course, but they grew wary as well, for all their taunting.

_"Stop that," _An old woman finally yelled behind her, _"What are you all doing, fooling around with that harlot? Get back to work! Good for nothing brats!"_

Mulan walked on.

* * *

"I am home!"

"Oh good," Mulan's mother exclaimed, "You can help your sister and me prepare. Your father's old colleague is visiting the town and he might come over tomorrow evening."

A little startled, Mulan exclaimed, "What old colleague?"

"From the war, child! _Aiyah_, put all of that down and go sweep the gardens, it is covered with leaves and dirt."

Mulan was quite glad that she left everything at Bai Na's, because there would have been no hiding either scarf if she had chosen to carry them home. She headed out to the garden, picking up the broom. It was a little bit dusty, but she was not sure what the point was because all the dirt would just fly back tomorrow. Still, the leaves had to go somewhere, so she dutifully swept the ones on the paved paths. The chairs and table in the pavilion was quite stained, so Mulan paused her work with the leaves to go back to grab a cloth and a bucket of water.

Yilan was polishing the tables in the sitting room, while their mother went to the guestrooms to straighten everything in case the colleague chose to stay overnight.

"How is Bai-_mei_**?"

"She is well," Mulan replied. "Her cousin saw the matchmaker yesterday."

"First time?"

"First time for this reason, anyway."

"Must have been nerve-wrecking. Any news?"

"She did not say. Maybe the matchmaker had to leave and think about it."

"I have always wondered how they know so many people."

"They do not know as many as they pretend to. That is why there are so many unhappy matches."

She said this with a wry tone. Yilan frowned. "We should not question tradition, sister of mine. If Heaven wills for us to struggle in life, then struggle we must. It has been this way since the beginning of time."

Mulan frowned as well. It seemed like all conversations always led up to the topic of marriage. "I should like to never marry."

"_Mei-mei_, take great care with your words," Yilan reproached.

"No, if I could manage to live on my own, without being a burden to anyone, and perhaps take on a few burdens, without having to marry at all," Mulan squeezed the water out of the cloth, "I should like to avoid that nonsense altogether."

She slipped out before her sister could remonstrate her further. It was easy for Yilan to abide by tradition and defend it; she stood a good chance of reaping its benefits. For Mulan, however, she saw nothing good coming out of it, if the people around her were anything to go by. The only friend she had was Bai Na, and once Bai Na married, Mulan would have no one.

She could be one of those hermits, except a woman. She would live alone on the mountains with her horse, Kehan, and read all day. Perhaps play the table harp, or go for a walk. That would be nice. It would be _idyllic_. The only issue is her poor mother and father; they would need her help, of course, and she could hardly lend aid if she was off being a hermit, but if she married a husband who lived far away, she would be unable to take care of them anyway.

Baobao, precious little runt that he was, ran up moments after Mulan started cleaning the table and chairs. He was excited.

"Who is going to come over? Is he a good friend? How long will he be staying? Will there be boys my age?"

"What if there is a girl your age?"

"_Eh_," The child made a face, "Girls are boring. Except you, _Er-jie***_"

Mulan chuckled. "Sweet-tongued brat. I doubt there will be any children, though. You must be on your best behavior, however, and make sure to be respectful."

Baobao found this reminder quite tedious. "How long are you and _Da-jie_**** going to keep cleaning?"

"Maybe another hour. We will do more tomorrow, since our guest is not coming until the evening." Mulan made a mental note to ask her parents just who the guest was. She had no idea how to refer to him; was he older than her father? Younger?

Baobao, bored, ran off. Mulan finished in the pavilion and walked back, soaking the cloth in the bucket of water. As she approached the house, she heard her mother sighing softly.

_"Try not to let him know that you trained Mulan," _She hissed, _"The last thing an esteemed Commander like him needs to know is that we turned one of our daughters into a sexless creature. He will lose all respect for you, and the next thing you know, you would have gone from War Hero to laughingstock in a span of a few weeks."_

_"Fa Li," _Her father groaned, _"I will handle it. You just take care to ensure that Baobao is on his best behavior, and that this place is presentable should he visit."_

Mulan set the bucket down, squeezing the rag and hanging it to dry. Her mother always favored Yilan more, this was nothing new. Yilan was the fairer of the sisters, the more beautiful by definition, the responsible, the more gracile, the more feminine. Their mother always had more hope for her. Mulan, on the other hand, was the strange daughter who could not seem to abide by the rules of the world. Normally, Mulan discarded her mother's words; she knew her mother loved her and just did not know what to make of her. However, she had just come home from Bai Na's, embarking on a long project for her mother's happiness, and her mother's profound dissatisfaction stung more than usual. She looked at her fingers, musing that they would start cramping up as the project went on. Sewing and embroidery did not require a lot of strength, but holding the needle in the same position for hours would make them sore.

"Mulan!" Her mother suddenly emerged, "Are you done with the garden already?"

Mulan did not answer. She silently took her broom again and slipped out without looking at her.

* * *

_*__Jie_: elder-sister

_**Mei_: little-sister

***_Er-jie_: Second-eldest sister

****_Da-jie_: Eldest sister


	3. The art of dealing with Neighbors

**Spirit of Magnolia**

_The art of dealing with Neighbors_

Ma Diao, bless the man, looked hardly changed from his younger days. The sight of him filled Hua Zhou with a little bit of envy. His own leg had been permanently crippled from the war, and while Hua Zhou could ambulate well enough, he would never be able to reach the former vigor of his youth. Ma, on the other hand, was as strong and agile as ever, walking with a spring in his step and moving with a brisk energy that made him seem immune to the effects of time.

"Old Hua!" Ma Diao skipped the usual greeting to grasp Hua by the shoulders, his grin nearly splitting his head in half, "You old rascal! You have no idea how it _feels _to see your ugly face again!"

Hua Zhou, for his part, was much more reserved. As former comrades in battle, the two had exchanged many a good-natured insult, as was probably to be expected of such a friendship. Now, however, with all the intervening years and the gap of rank between them, it paid more to be cautious.

"Commander Ma, where did you find the Pills of Immortality? Would you care to share?"

Ma was too sharp to be distracted. "What is this 'Commander Ma'? Insolent scoundrel!" He turned to look at the magistrate, who was watching with amusement, "This man saves my life countless times and is the reason I am even alive to be a commander, and he calls me 'Commander Ma'! If you call me that again, I will plant you, face on the ground and rear end toward Heaven!"

Despite himself, Hua Zhou was laughing, and he relaxed as the magistrate gestured for both of them to enter. The magistrate's estate was not as large as Hua Zhou often imagined for the wealthiest nobles, but then the magistrate was not the wealthiest noble, and for all its small size, it was very quaint, everything situated tastefully and making things _just so_, so that it never felt too crowded or too spacious.

Ma Diao remarked the same, and the magistrate was quick to point to his wife.

"You are a lucky man," Said Ma, "For Heaven to send such a woman to you. Women are Heaven's gifts to man. That is why they in general are fairer. Of course, women could also be Heaven's punishment."

The men laughed, for this was quite witty.

"How is she doing?" Asked Ma, "Shall we see her today?"

"Ah," The magistrate hesitated, "She has not been feeling well. I would summon her but…well, perhaps later in the day."

"It would not do to trouble our esteemed host," Ma reassured him, "I would think less of you, my friend, if you would abuse your wife so for your own rapport with me."

Hua Zhou nodded. There was a reason he and Ma got along so well, and he was heartened to see that promotions did not lessen this particular virtue.

"Is she of good health in general?" The Commander inquired.

"She has borne me three sons, so I cannot complain. Sometimes I wonder if I should take another wife to help lessen her load, but…" The magistrate contemplated for a moment, "Whenever I suggested this, she never seemed too pleased."

"A second wife would likely mean more work for her," Hua Zhou pointed out. It was one reason he never troubled Fa Li with any suggestion of the kind. Men in the great Han were allowed to take more than wife if they could support them, of course, and were sometimes expected to if their first wives ended up being barren while faithful and good in other ways, but some women adapted to that more easily than others. Had Fa Li not given him Baobao, Hua Zhou might have begun to look for another woman, if only to ensure his family line would persist. Once Baobao came to them, however, there was no real need. There were always risks, of course; anything could happen to the child, and Hua Zhou did not like to think on it, but then anything could happen to all of the children, and a man could hardly be like the Emperor, with his numerous concubines giving him numerous sons. There were limits to how many backup plans a man could afford to make, and Fa Li would probably be miserable if a younger wife were to intrude in their household. Not to mention poor Mulan, who would probably have a more difficult time than most daughters.

"True," Said the magistrate, "And I am not sure I like the idea of splitting my attention away from her, as I would feel compelled to do. It is strange how as a man grows older, his perspectives change. You go from wanting a beautiful woman for a bride, or perhaps many beautiful women, to realizing that you really just want the one, and not even the most beautiful one. Just the one that makes your home like Heaven, and all of the sudden no one else is adequate."

"What did I tell you," Ma pointed, "Lucky man indeed. But our magistrate here is a good man," To which the magistrate denied, "No, such good luck only favors good men."

They sat down to tea in a pavilion in the gardens, and as the servants moved away, the magistrate inquired of Ma, "How do things look up in the north?"

Ma appeared a little distraught. "I hate those people. You know, they go raiding the villages every month or so, and sometimes they take the women—they scream as they are carried off on horseback, and we write back to the central command, but they tell us, 'Unless they attempt to pass through the Great Wall, you are not to attack'. I suppose it is their lot for choosing to live in _front _of the wall rather than _behind_, but they are still our people, and it smarts."

He was a little vague on purpose, Hua Zhou knew. For all of Ma's seeming candor, he knew when to hold his tongue. The actual reason the army was grounded in terms of the Huns was because those were the Emperor's orders. They had been dealing with the Huns for what seemed like hundreds of years—the barbarians in the north emerged shortly after the fall of the Qin dynasty, and while the Han dynasty was newly established and vulnerable, the barbarians would raid the northern villages for resources and women. Supposedly, it was cold up in the north, nothing but barren plains, and the women would die easily, frail as they were. So the barbarians would come back, taking more. Han women were delicate and good-looking, which the men liked; the Hun women were made of much tougher material, though still no match for their environment. Since the Han Empire was young and weak, the early Emperors use to establish truces with the Huns by arranging marriages between the imperial princesses and the barbarian chiefs. The Fifth Martial Emperor managed to exile a good portion of the Hun tribes when they demanded his beloved sister, and by then the Empire had found its legs and was able to consolidate a solid military.

The current Emperor, however, was dealing with a rather prickly court, and the people, too, were dealing with a prickly economy, as they dealt with earthquakes rocking the Sichuan area, the Yellow River washing its banks. They had waged one campaign already in Hua Zhou's lifetime, but the Huns had regrouped with surprising speed. Understandably, with all the other troubles plaguing the empire, the Emperor was reluctant to wage war yet again. Naturally, this hesitation was not popular with the military.

"We will launch a campaign eventually, I am sure," Hua Zhou soothed, "The Han people are no stranger to waiting. Five generations of Emperors, we have waited the first time around, and when we rose against the Huns they were forced to flee across the tundras and to the lands in the west where the sun is cold and the people are pale. How many years did Goujian of Yue sleep on sticks and eat bile as his ministers worked to infect Fuchai's court with corruption, felling the Wu kingdom? The years may be long for us mortals, but Heaven stretches longer, and its plans encompass many a man's lifetime. The audacity of the Huns will win them their dues."

"Well said," Ma declared. "However, that does not make the waiting easier. After this sojourn, I will be returning back north…to deal with all of this again. The thing is, they are grouping, which is somewhat similar to what happened in the beginning of the dynasty."

"Grouping? The Huns?"

"Yes, they have this new leader, a warrior of great skill named Shan Yu. He has never emerged in any of their raids, but intelligence reports from beyond the wall mention that he is at the head of a league of tribes. Twenty-seven years old, at the peak of his vitality, he is as strong as ten average men and runs as fast as a horse. At his coming of age ceremony, he survived by himself on the plains with no food or water preparation, and made it back to his tribe after three weeks dressed with the pelts of three snow leopards."

"Are we certain these stories are not falsified?"

"It is hard to tell with subjective descriptions, but his coming of age ceremony is consistent with what we know of his tribe's culture, and while the Huns are not ones to value sophistication, strength and survival _are _traits they praise, and they do praise Shan Yu highly, so he should not be underestimated."

"We have men of our own. Somewhere in the vast empire is a warrior waiting to be noticed."

"That is true, but what is truly alarming is his advisors. He has three of them: Ba Ke, Yi Hede, and Suma Ri. The other Hun tribes united under Shan, but the real orchestrators were those three."

"The minds behind the grunt," Said the magistrate, "The Huns truly are backwards; instead of the warriors defending their liege, their scholars serve the brute."

"I would not call them 'scholars'…"

"Scholars for _them_, anyway. Does anyone know anything about his character?"

"It is clouded with Hun principles. They are a ruthless lot, living in the plains as they do. If Shan has a weakness for women, it was not unusual enough that anyone remarked on it. He does seem to have the ability to focus intensely on a task for long periods of time. He has a falcon that he trained extensively with, so that it seemed nigh his third eye. He has trained his men with similar intensity. On the whole, the Huns would make a formidable guerrilla force."

"If they rely only on their strength, that will only take them so far. How crafty are these three advisors?"

"They have a thorough understanding of the other tribes. Whether they have a similar understanding of the empire is quite another matter. They kill the men and take the women. Women _might _be able to offer them some insight, but their knowledge of what happens outside the home is limited. I doubt they would know much. The position of all of the troops is known only by the Emperor and his cabinet. There is a schedule we keep for patrols, and it cycles at random. As far as I can tell, the only way they would know enough to truly do damage to the Empire is if they had a spy infiltrating our ranks. For all their power, there is actually little they could do to really hurt our great empire. They are just a constant thorn in the side that can fester. It is the indirect frustration and discontent from their constant raids that is the real problem."

"My friend," Hua Zhou chuckled, "I do not regret for one moment that I chose to come home. Your position is not one I can handle nearly as well."

"Ha! You were always the wiser one of us, Old Hua. Coming home to raise a family…speaking of which, our dear magistrate here has been telling me some fascinating things—you have a daughter, I hear, the Maiden of Many Talents?"

It took a moment for Hua Zhou to catch up with the sudden turn in the conversation. "Ah…? Maiden of Many Talents? This is the first I have heard of such a title attributed to either of my daughters. I have two, you see, and a son."

"Indeed, you are a fortunate man! Of course, all three of your children must give you much joy. However, it seems one of them is rather unexpected—a maiden who wields both sword and needle to the envy of men and women respectively. To have such a daughter, Old Hua! What will your son be like? Will he be stronger than ten Shan Yu's and as skilled with the brush? I foresee a certain Lord Hua in the Emperor's cabinet!"

"Oh dear Heaven!" Hua Zhou laughed beside himself, "I would not dare boast of such! Who was uttering such nonsense? This is too much!"

"I _was _telling him of the elusive magnolia that grows in the house of Hua," The magistrate smiled warmly. "Forgive me, but it slipped out."

"Nay, I brought it up. I heard something about this strange paladin maiden who lived in this town on my way here. Word does travel," Ma chuckled, "I confess I was not entirely surprised that she was the product of _your _house, my friend. I should like to meet her! What a spectacular young maid. Perhaps she might be the next Fu Hao."

"Fu Hao?" Hua Zhou blinked, a little baffled by this name. "I have never come across this one before."

"She is not that well-known, I think. Records transcribed from the bones during the Shang Dynasty tell of a wife of King Wu Ding, who lived during the Shang Dynasty. She was his top general and high priestess, eliminating the Tu Fang in a single battle, followed by Yi, Qiang, and Ba Kingdoms. She was the one who utilized the large-scale ambush technique for the first time in history, and many powerful generals, including Zhi and He Gao, served under her."

"Sounds like quite an amazing lady," The magistrate remarked. "Perhaps Hua Mulan will, indeed, be the next Lady Fu Hao." He did not voice an inquiry as to why Fu Hao was not well-known, since the answer was obvious to all three men.

"I did not raise Mulan to be the next Fu Hao," Hua Zhou chuckled, "To marry a king and rise through the ranks of sixty wives in order to gain a rank that history strives to forget. Nay, she just took to it as a child, when her sister did not—it was quite peculiar."

"Mayhap she will return a man after this life," Ma chuckled, "When she drinks of the Dream Goddess's brew."

"Or perhaps she _is _Fu Hao," The magistrate suggested, "Here to live a simpler life."

Hua Zhou rather liked the latter's idea. He was going to read up on Fu Hao when he could find the resources on her. He did not have many tomes about the Shang Dynasty, as it was so long ago.

"What of your son? I trust he is in good health?"

"That, and a constant nuisance to his sisters." He chuckled. "Nay, he is a good child. What of you, Old Ma?"

"Cannot complain. My eldest son, Dan-_er*_, just turned nineteen last month, and his brother, Che-_er_, is turning fourteen in three months."

"Taking after their father?"

"That would be something. Dan-_er_ shows some talent, but I am not sure…war is not really in his nature, that is more along Che-_er_. We shall see. Some of these children seem to take longer than others to find themselves."

"Mm," Hua Zhou agreed. "It seems with every generation they take a little longer."

"And lose more respect for their elders."

"Ha!"

"Story of every decade," The magistrate mused. "However, if the Empire goes to war, that will change."

"War does tend to have that effect," Ma Diao agreed. "Yet if war inspires maturity, it is, perhaps, what the empire needs. Our neighbors grow bold. They will have to be put in their place, and pay for every drop of blood they have shed with one of their own."

* * *

For all of her mother's complaining, there was one thing she could not argue against, and that was the benefits of having a daughter who could do a son's job when her father was crippled and her brother was too young. At noon, when the sun was quite high and intense, Mulan found herself up on one of the roofs because a tree branch had fallen on it and gotten caught.

It took hours of work to remove the branch and then have it dragged away where the guests would not see it. By the time she was done, Mulan was exhausted and feeling incredibly faint. Yilan gave her some water, which she downed fast enough that she ended up feeling sicker than when she was still dehydrated.

"Yilan, go draw your sister a bath," Their mother ordered, grimacing at the roof outside—the tiles did not survive the tree branch's impact unscathed, "And bring out some good clothes for her—your father is meeting Commander Ma Diao, so he is quite an important official."

"A Commander?" Mulan raised her eyebrows.

"Indeed! So you had all be on your best behavior. Yilan, be sure to wear that peony hairpin. Who knows, the commander might have a son." The implication was clear.

Yilan looked discomfited, but she was always the more obedient of the three children. "Yes, Mother."

Mulan had to lie down because her stomach did not agree with her. Yilan went to draw a bath.

"When are they coming?" Baobao asked.

"Probably not for a few hours, child," Fa Li ushered the boy to his rooms, "In the meantime, you should finish your lessons so that you can have the evening free."

The child groaned, but for all that, he still went to his room. Fa Li went to help Yilan draw the bath. She called Mulan when it was ready, and helped the girl strip down.

"I do wish you would stop with this foolishness," Her mother muttered as she examined Mulan's well-toned body, "Men do not like such firm muscles on a woman. If they did, they would just marry each other. What use is a woman who is so similar to a man?"

"Men cannot bear children," Mulan pointed out.

"If you keep up with your martial arts, you will not bear children either. Women need to take better care of ourselves. That is why a woman stays within the house, and manages household affairs."

"The peasant women manage the fields with their husbands."

"That is because they have no _choice_, you foolish child! A proper woman is soft and supple. Children like soft things; how are you to be a good mother if you are as hard as a rock?"

She went on in this vein even though she had taken advantage of Mulan's more limber physique. Mulan held her tongue, because she might say something she would regret, and that would not be acceptable at all. Plus, anything she said might also offend her sister. Yilan was soft and supple, dainty like a flower, so if Mulan claimed that soft and supple meant 'weak and spineless', that would be insulting her sister as well. Still, the unhappiness from the previous evening reawakened, and when she finished scrubbing off the sweat and grime from the roofwork and donned fresh clothes, she headed out to their stables where Kehan, neglected up till now, was restlessly bobbing his head up and down in anticipation of a good ride.

Mulan debated on whether she should go to Bai Na first to retrieve her project before riding out again with Kehan to the glade she had so favored. She had discovered it when she was twelve, when she had been especially angry with her mother and wanted to escape the house in order to avoid doing something she regretted. It was a peaceful place, rather small, with a little murmuring brook that cut through. Kehan would graze or drink from the stream, and Mulan would read in the shadow of a large willow tree, or embroider handkerchiefs or other projects. No one else had ever passed by there, and seclusion had always been Mulan's sanctuary. For some reason, she never thought to bring Bai Na there; it had always been her home away from home, a place to call her own.

Now though, she felt too upset with her mother to work on her birthday present. She knew her mother simply thought that if Mulan just stopped "fooling around with martial arts", she would magically become just like her sister. And it was probably true, from a physical standpoint. She would lose her tone, she would lose her tan, and she knew enough womanly arts to become "normal" for once.

But she _liked _martial arts, and she _liked _being able to stand up for herself, and to silence a man's sexual harassment with a single glare with the threat of a sound punching behind it. She liked being _different_, because for all the taunting and mockery that might have come along with being strange, at least she knew who she was, and was not just one of many women with the same skills and same personalities, sculpted and carved and beaten to conform to one model of behavior, submissive when men were being unfair, silently tolerating abuse because that was what they were supposed to do. She walked away because she chose to walk away, not because she had to. She could always fight back, and she would even win most of the time. Why would she ever want to give that up?

_Why did I have to be born a woman?_ This all really started because she had been a disappointment from the start. Her mother had miscarriages and bouts of infertility. They were happy with Yilan, because having a baby girl increased the odds of having a baby boy. Mulan was the extra, the unwanted. She should have been a son; her parents were expecting a son. When she did not turn out the way they expected, they were crestfallen. She had let them down simply by being who she was. Still, her father had doted on her, had given her all that she asked for, trained her in the art of the fist and the sword and spear, the bowl and arrow, the staff and fan. The taste of that was like a taste of what might have been. Men led such better lives, such easier lives, able to go where they pleased and explore the world of opportunities open to them. Women were stuck, trapped, their worth measured only by how many sons they could bear, and how well they trained their daughters to be good bearers of sons.

Kehan was eager to go out for a walk, and nickered happily as Mulan put on his saddle and bridle. She led the stallion quietly out so her mother would not realize she was gone. That would earn her a severe tongue-lashing she was simply not in the mood to deal with. The sun was high, and it would be hours before her father would return, guest and all. Perhaps the Commander might not even miss meeting Mulan, since Mulan was apparently such a disappointment.

She could dress as a man. She would give herself a new name. Maybe Hua Ping. She could do some odd jobs and accumulate some wealth. Maybe find a master scholar to teach her. Mulan already read so much, and wrote so much, she could be the best student there was, if she put her heart to it. She could apply to be a member of a noble's court. An advisor, perhaps. That would be a good living. Or she could simply be a traveler. It would be tough work, but the freedom might be worth it…

_But Father's leg, he needs my help, at least until Baobao can take my place, and then when Yilan is married Mother would need me to help her keep the house._ Sometimes the obligation she had toward her family felt more like chains, strapping her to the household. She sighed.

Kehan went at a gallop, and with the wind in her hair, Mulan felt her previous resentment give way. Riding was always a thrill, not just because of the sheer speed at which the world passed her, but also because she felt so connected to the life that carried her, the rippling muscles of the black stallion, knowing that as much as she might think herself the master of this magnificent animal, she was only being carried because it _chose _to carry her. That was the wonder of mounts, and all pets—that they had that affection towards man of their own will, and not because they were blindly designed to be so, like carriages and wagons. The trees went past, the grass and shrubs, and the tall mountains in the distance loomed like watchmen, vast and grand like silent gods.

She dismounted in the glade, taking off Kehan's bridle and saddle so he could roam at will, and settled at her favorite spot under the willow. Without a book, however, this quickly grew rather boring, so she stood up, brushed herself off, and decided to practice some moves. She needed to work on her balance—the high kick always got her, and though it was not particularly useful in real combat, according to her father, it was still a good exercise for a drill, just as pushups and situps were not particularly useful in combat either, and yet all soldiers were required to be able to do hundreds of them. It was a bit awkward to do with her current dress, but Mulan decided to think of it as an extra challenge. She would not always be able to fight in the right uniform. In fact, whenever the boys bullied her, she had _never _been in the right uniform. It was all about adaptation.

She was sweaty after the exercise, something her mother would not approve of, but Mulan was beyond caring at this point. Taking a few satisfied breaths, she turned to get her horse, but then Kehan neighed in alarm. Startled, she looked around, and caught a glimmer of purple next to a tree

A man. Young, in his early twenties at the oldest, a sword strapped to his back and one hand against the tree trunk. He was staring at her with a baffled expression, which probably mirrored her own. How long had he been standing there? How had he even found the glade?

_Oh no. _Mulan stared back for three stricken seconds, before dashing for Kehan and leaping up toward his bare back.

* * *

*_ Er_: Child, or a petname appendage like "Dan_ny_" or "Bill_y_"


End file.
